


Rene'tha Stiala'et - aka - Our Bloodied Golden Savior

by Ryenan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beacon Hills, Enders Game Style, Gen, Harm to Children, Muteness, New York City, References to Suicide, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, not his dark materials, self inflicted harm, this is a dark one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:32:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryenan/pseuds/Ryenan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles, or Stiala'et, is from a family of Magic-users, who are trained and sent to various werewolf packs to protect and guide them. Stiles gets sent to the Hale pack when he graduates the school - nine years before average.</p><p>Derek remembers the Red they had before the fire, Amelia. She was awful, condescending, and cruel. But he has no choice, he needs help. And this Red, sixteen and brilliant and absolutely silent - he is ten times better than Amelia.</p><p>Or the AU that isn't based off of another fic, but out of my own head, that is darkish and sadish and is going to be epic, you just wait and see. please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Malakh

_“Is this really necessary, to put a youngest son into training? His mother will be distraught.”_

_“We need him, you know that. There are not as many families left with the blood in them anymore, and more and more wolves that need someone of the proper blood to help them.”_

_Anayha will not be happy. So we have, what, three weeks until Malakh turns nine and we give him up?”_

_“I am sorry, Atri, But we need him quite badly, and he did test positive -"_

_“Yes, I know, I know…Let us just hope Anayha will survive this, hmm?”_

Anayha Stilinski died two weeks before Malakh’s ninth birthday. The bathtub drained her blood, sucking it out through her wrists and the long slices on her legs. One week and six days before his birthday, when his father told him, Malakh stopped speaking. One week before his birthday, Malakh tried to slit his own wrists. His birthday was spent in Bellevue Hospital, wrapped in thin white sheets and too-large brown socks and stacks of pink blankets.


	2. Chapter 2

_“What can I do? He is grieving, and too much pain is in that small body for him to be of any good to you as of yet.”_

_“We are sending in Saint John. To heal his mind.”_

_“To make him forget his mother?”_

_“To make him forget the pain.”_

Saint John came while Malakh was asleep, and painted over the pain in the young child’s brain.When he awoke, Malakh felt better. But he still did not speak. The Golden Savior Academy is on the corner of Vesey and Church streets, across from the St. Paul Graveyard. It encompasses eighteen floors of the twenty floor building, with the first floor belonging to a boutique and the second being the business and reception offices of the school. There are a total of twenty-eight students in the entire school, and only four of them, including Malakh, are under the age of eleven. He never sees any of them, or hears them in other rooms talking to their instructors, and Saint Deaton never even mentions them. Malakh might have asked where the other students were, his two older brothers, Genim and Peter, but he refused to speak. So Saint Deaton stopped trying to make him.

They studied strategy, weapons, myths and lore, and magic. He excelled at all types, from healing to destruction to cloaking, but his most formidable magic was in the runes and elementals. He could light a target aflame and put it right back out again with water quicker than most students could conjure the flame to begin with. He could lock a door against a powerful Saint, like Deaton himself, with a string of runes it took hours to break. Malakh Stilinski was one of the most powerful blood children in the building by the time he was eleven. But still he did not speak.


	3. Chapter 3

_“He still refrains from speaking, Atri. But his magic – amazing. Incredible, and even better than many in the council.”_

_“But you said he does not speak. Does he focus solely on runes? For he can’t cast an incantation without his voice, surely.”_

_“But he can, Atri. By the stars, I swear on my title that your son is the best blood child I have ever seen. But his name – you can not be the Malakh’ai without speaking, Atri.”_

_“Might he not resume speaking in the future, Deaton? It has not been that long, and he must not have been truly silent.”_

_“Malakh Stiala’et Stilinski has been dead silent for more than seven years. not a single sound, whisper, scream, or incantation has come out of his mouth. The school elders are prepared to ink him and send him to a pack, Atri. Bless him with a more suited name before it happens.”_

_“When should I come?”_

_“This Tuesday, as the inking ritual is slated to begin on Thursday.”_

_“I will see you then, Saint Deaton. And Malakh – “_

_“No, not him as well. Not allowed.”_

 

They did his inking in darkest plum, nearly black, and the searing runes and sigils shone with an eerie luminance against his pale skin. Deaton helped him back to his room, careful not to touch the magic etched on the boy’s skin. Stiala’et stopped his mentor before he left the room, holding up his arms.

“Do they hurt? I could get a salve, or some aspirin.”

Stiala’et only shook his head and furrowed his brow, and then they shifted. The runes seemed to be pulsing, and then turned a fiery red as Stiala’et dropped his arms.

“Well.” Deaton just shook his head and left the boy to his magic, stepping out in to the hall.

“So, Deaton. How is he?” Saint Victoria was waiting for him just outside the door, red hair covered by a white veil, green eyes wide open.

“He changed them. He moved the runes and he changed their color, Victoria. Just now.” Deaton leaned back against the door and let out a shuddering breath.

“You can feel it, can’t you? All of the power rolling off of him?”

“Yes. I can. Atri and Donovan and Clarisse can as well. He is very powerful, Deaton. You have done well. But now…now you are done.” She smoothed the veil over her hair down and it turned black, and the black trickled down her shoulders and stained her dress the same color.

“Done? But he is only sixteen, Victoria, you can’t take him yet!”

“He is more powerful now than even his father was in his prime, and I have to. Orders from above.” She stepped forward, and pressed her palm flat against the door, the runes etched into the wood lighting up in a thick red. 

“Stiala’et won’t let you in, Victoria, not tonight. Come back in the morning, after breakfast. Then you can take him.”


	4. Chapter 4

_“You would send him to the Hale pack? He is still a child, Victoria. Not yet ready to fight off the Argents...they will kill him, first chance they get.”_

_“He is strong enough, and not just a child. Besides, we have no choice. If he can survive those hunters and help train the Hale pack, we can be certain about his role in what is coming.”_

_“The council thinks he is the Malakh’ai? But Deaton said – “_

_“That you couldn't be Malakh’ai without speaking? Well, he doesn't know everything, trust me. No one knows everything.”_

 

Stiala’et was eating his breakfast when Saint Victoria came in to the room, dressed again in all black.

“Stiles? The council would like to see you when you are done. There are clothes in your room for you to wear.” She moved closer as he just kept eating, seemingly unaware to her presence.

“Stiala’et? Stiles?” He looked up at her then, the glowing gold of his eyes fading back to brown as he emphatically shook his head yes.

“Alright then. Third floor, Stiles. Twenty minutes.” She walked back out of the tiny breakfast nook in a swirl of black that was draining to green, shutting the door behind her. Stiles stood and rinsed his bowl out, then left it in the sink to deal with later. His bedroom was down the hall to the left, past other white, unmarked doors. He never saw anyone else in the halls, besides Deaton or Saint Victoria, and assumed the other students were housed on the other floors.

His bare feet were silent on the wood floor, special runes carved into the flesh of his toes sparking gold with every step. The sigils on his door flared purple as he pushed into his room. There were perfectly folded white layers sitting on the bed, and a thicker red cloak draped over his desk chair. Stiles hurriedly changed into the council-approved clothes, not caring much about their possible significance, and hurried downstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am out of buffer, sorry, so I will post as I write which should be fairly regular, updates every 2-4 days. sorry

_“I have contacted the leader of the Hale pack, Derek. He is happy to have Stiala’et come to them, but he does not know just how young Stiala’et is. I thought he might be less...willing if he knew.”_

_“It should be fine. How do the pack numbers stand?”_

_“The alpha, of course; then a female beta and a male beta are Rumigons; one male beta is Oteche; one male Lasstet; a human girl; the Lasstets’ mother; a Kanima; a psychic with immunity; and another boy, the Kanima's keeper.”_

_“My my. He ought to have his hands full.”_

 

“Malakh Stiala’et Stilinski, by the order of the blood council, you have been given the title of Rene’tha Stiala’et, and will become the resident Rene’tha for the Hale pack in Beacon Hills, California, effective immediately. Saint Victoria and Saint Deaton shall accompany you for a limited time to observe and provide aid as necessary. You will be provided with supplies, and, as per custom, are expected to stay at the pack den. However, as you are still a minor, you will be spending the next two years in the house of your father, to take up residence within the den upon your eighteenth birthday. do you accept?"

Stiles nodded, once, and kept his head down.

"Then you, Rene'tha Stiala'et Stilinski, are dismissed from this court."

Stiles nodded again, turned on his heel, and left the council room, red cape turning a thick plum, his fingers sparking with the same color magic, smoke trailing him. He was a Rene'tha, damn it all, and he would do what he liked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rumigon - Blue eyes  
> Oteche - gold eyes  
> Lasstet - yellow eyes
> 
>  
> 
> The pack is, If you don't want to guess:
> 
> The alpha - Derek  
> female beta and a male beta are Rumigons - Erica & Boyd  
> one male beta is Oteche - Isaac  
> one male Lasstet - Scott  
> a human girl - Allison  
> the Lasstets’ mother - Melissa  
> a Kanima - Jackson  
> a psychic with immunity - Lydia  
> and another boy, the Kanima's keeper - Danny
> 
> Yeah, yeah, eye colors are not exactly cannon, but deal with it. It is important for the future.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Didn't get much time to write in between classes. more tomorrow or later today though, I swear!

They left for Beacon Hills the following morning, climbing on a red eye flight out of LaGuardia to the Redding municipal airport in northern California. A young, bright eyed stewardess pinned a badge to Stiles’ sweater that said he was a first time flyer, and an older, scowly stewardess pinned a deaf/mute button right next to that.

“Sorry, but that is the only kind we have. Will that do, sir?” the woman was snappish, but Deaton remained impassive. 

“That will do, yes. Thank you.”

“Alright then. You still have another hour before the plane begins boarding, so do whatever. You will want to be here early though so you and your boy here can get on with the rest of the disabled people.”

Stiles’ eyebrows shot up at that as the woman stomped off, and Victoria stifled a laugh.

“Oh, Stiala’et, if only she knew, hmm? Now, let’s go find you a cheeseburger, growing boys need to eat.” She put a hand on his back and led him away from the waiting area, leaving Deaton with a sideways glance and their bags.

“Honey, don’t listen to her. You aren't disabled, alright? You can do anything you like.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at his chaperone and snapped his fingers, from which sprung a green spark that stretched out into a word. Victoria knew that it wasn’t a problem, no one but she could see it, for it was made of energy that Stiles drew from her.

_“Burger King and Starbucks?”_

“Sure, Stiles. lead the way.”


	7. Chapter 7

The plane isn't quite full-up, but there are a good number of people, and so Stiles is happy they get to board early and avoid dealing with all of the norms, the muggles, the plain. Stiles grins as he thinks this, then snaps his fingers at Deaton to get his attention. They had studied sign language for a while, knowing that he might need it when he got out in the world. They never spoke about him not talking, not anymore, because everyone knew he wouldn't. Couldn't. And Stiles? Stiles liked the silence.

_“We have Harry?”_

They have been practicing their signing a lot more, because Stiles is going to need it at school, so Deaton signs back instead of speaking.

_“The books?"_

_“yes.”_

The line shuffles forward, a lady with a walker and her family being cleared, and they pull their suitcases forward, Stiles shuffling backwards so he can still see his teacher.

_“yes, which one do you want?”_

_“all of them.”_

“Freak.”

There is a man, fat and balding, sitting in the first row of chairs in the waiting area, staring at them. Stiles ignores him, looks readily at Deaton, acting for all the world like he can’t hear the man. but the words floating in front of his eyes say something different.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” A thin boy cuts in before Deaton can even open his mouth, facing the man but signing to his side. It is an odd angle, but Stiles appreciates the gesture, trying to keep him in the loop.

“Yeah, kid, I called him a freak. So?”

“Sir, Stiles isn't a freak. he is deaf-mute. You are an ass, and he is deaf. do you understand?”

Stiles goes on the defensive hearing his name, and it doubles when the boy signs for it with the extended fingers and hooked thumbs for the word angel.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorrrry it is so late. :/

Deaton’s magic flares up, and he can feel it licking at his skin, sparking against his own tattoos, so he pulls on it and tosses up words for the older man to see.

_“Let me handle it. First trial while out in the world and all.”_

He acquiesces with a small nod, and his magic recedes a tiny amount, becomes not quite so cloying. The man has turned back to his paper, still seething but unwilling to push it any farther, and the boy, lanky, pale, and with thick curls and dark circles under his eyes, is adjusting his backpack straps with a small grin and a light blush on his cheeks. 

He drops his hands when he notices Stiles’ gaze, and starts signing again. _“My little sister was h-o-h, that is how I know the signs. If you were wondering.”_

_“That’s nice, really great, who are you?”_ Stiles and Deaton generally signed in English word order, and this boy didn’t seem to mind going either way.

_“Oh! Sorry! My name is Isaac. Derek sent me to fly back with you? To get you, ah.....”_ he fluttered his fingers nervously before spelling out the word. _“A-c-c-l-i-m-a-e-t-e-a-e-d?”_

_“Acclimated?”_

_“Comfortable around us. So that you aren't overwhelmed with a group our size. He said it could be alarming for a red.”_

_“Red?”_ Isaac again flounders for an answer, blushing and chewing on his lip, until Deaton jumps in.

_“Red is colloquial speech for Rene’tha.”_

“Stiles, sweetheart, turn around, you’re up.” Victoria waved her hand over Deaton’s head to get his attention. “And Isaac, here, jump on in line.”

Stiles turned around and lunged, graceless and gangly, a few steps forward, handing the attendant his boarding pass and passport. Isaac slipped under the flimsy barrier with a perplexed look on his face.

“Residual hearing? Hearing aids? I thought he was deaf-mute?” Victoria patted his cheek when he stood up. 

“No, just mute. Sorry. He has another way to communicate besides ASL, and I’m sure he will show you soon enough.”

_“Sorry about that misinformation, Isaac.”_ The words popped into place, hovering in front of Isaac in the palest of blue, causing him to jump back - nearly hitting the old woman behind him. He was so startled that his eyes flared into their shifted blue and his claws extended and dug into the palm of his hand.

The words shifted again as a palpable calm fell over him, as thick as cream, and Victoria twisted out of the way of the flailing wolf. 

_“Sorry!”_

Deaton had turned around to stare at him, and he could feel Victoria’s gaze in his back, but he straightened up smoothly and brushed himself off. Then Deaton smiled, wide and cold and warm, with the touch of malice you would expect from a father, daring Isaac to freak out.

“Interesting, Hmm?”


	9. Chapter 9

They talked non-stop on the plane, fingers flying through signs and over paper, Isaac sometimes speaking and Stiles occasionally tossing up words. Deaton sat behind the boys reading, while Victoria poured over the information they had on the pack.

 

“What do you think of the other kids, Boyd and Erica?”

“I think nothing of them, Victoria. I’ve never met them.”

“Didn’t you read the file? You have had time.”

“I wanted to meet them before I went snooping, Victoria.”

 

“So Erica was pretty poorly off before she changed, So she is a little...twisted, but not much more than the rest of us.”

_“Derek changed someone on drugs?”_   Isaac laughed softly and shook his head at the upset look on Stiles’ face.

“No, Not drugs. Epilepsy.” Stiles paused for a second, where a speaking person would have said "Oh," or "I see," but he didn't even open his mouth.

_“What is she like?”_

“Sad and sweet sometimes, twisted and...slutty, almost, other times. Don’t worry, she only bites if you ask her to. And she’ll like you. She likes anyone who lets her talk the most.”


	10. Chapter 10

“And what about Derek?”

 

 

_“What about the alpha, Derek Hale? He is young.”_

_“And Stiles is even younger. And the pack is made of teenagers. What’s your point?”_

“He is...a little scary. Something really bad happened when he was younger, Allison says it was kind of his fault, so he is always on guard. Probably going to seem really rude at first, but he is just testing you. Probably. Either that or he really hates you, he was acting really odd when he heard you were coming. Kind of...scared? and pissed off. I don’t know.”

 

 

_“I think he may be foolish and end up getting Stiles hurt.”_

_“I knew the Hale pack a long time ago, Victoria, before the fire that killed most of them and their Rene’tha. The pups were trained well, and Derek isn’t stupid if he has survived this long. Stiles will be fine.”_

“Okay then....what about the school?” The two boys were twisted to face one another and were barely paying attention to anything else. Stiles had, at some point, decided to put his earbuds in and test his signing skill a little more, So Victoria tapped on the top of Isaac’s head over the chair to get his attention.

“Isaac, turn around. What do you and Stiles want to eat?” There is a pretty stewardess standing next to them in the isle with a cart, smiling sweetly at them.

“We have lasagna and chicken, or a vegetarian alternative.” She speaks slowly, like she thinks Stiles can read her lips that way, but it doesn’t matter much, he isn’t even paying attention, because Isaac is writing it out in his graceful, loopy handwriting.

_“Lasagna for me,”_ he signs back, _“And ginger ale.”_ They had talked about keeping up the pretext that he was also deaf, or getting him fake hearing aids, or claiming he had cochlear implants, but when they brought this all up to Deaton, he shot them down. Lying is too difficult to pull off, blah blah blah. So he wasn’t going to fake being deaf in Beacon Hills, but it would be too tiresome to explain to anyone on the plane.

“Two Lasagnas, a ginger ale, and a Sprite please.” She handed them their food and rolled the cart back to serve Deaton and Victoria.

 

They were going to be good at talking, Isaac and Stiles, and hopefully the rest of the pack. Stiles didn’t communicate like anyone else, with his magic words and word order sign language, glances that could convey an entire sentence and the faintest shifts in the magic on his skin that told a wealth of information. So maybe in a group, a family, where everyone could understand him a little better for their extra senses, he would be less detached. And that would be a good thing.


	11. Chapter 11

Isaac woke up when the plane’s altitude dropped just enough for his over-sensitive ears to notice. Stiles was leaned against the window, pillow and blanket cushioning his  head and shoulders, and Isaac had been lying against his shoulder.  
  
Stiles smelled....Nervous, probably, his worry about meeting the pack  leeching into his dreams and scent. It was like green apples, sharp and sweet, layered over his normal scent. Isaac leaned back into him, nose to his elbow, and sniffed. It was like chocolate and blood, underneath the apples, and very strange. It didn’t smell like he was hurt, just like...blood. under his nails or around a scrape, dried, and older, not living blood. But more pungent, covering all of his skin. It wasn’t too odd, having a strange scent. Allison, when she didn’t smell entirely like Jackson, was like violets and gunpowder. Erica and Lydia seemed to smell quite a lot alike, shampoo and evergreen and ashes, and Elisse, the girl who sat in front of him in AP lit this year was the strange mix of pears and bugspray. 

* * *

  
  
The landing In Redding, California’s airport was smooth, and it was only slightly drizzly as they exited the plane. Stiles was practically sleepwalking, and Deaton looked a little fuzzy, So Ms. Victoria lead them through the airport.  
  
“Isaac, darling,” Ms. Victoria, Isaac thought, couldn’t say anyone’s name without adding in an adjective; “ Will you call your Alpha, sorry, Derek, when we find somewhere with decent reception? It looks like our luggage is going to be at the carousels in section three, he can pick us up there.”  
  
They worked their way over to the baggage carousels and propped Stiles up on the slightly more conscious Deaton, then Isaac stepped outside into the carport to call Derek.  
  
He picked up on the second ring with a sigh.  
  
“Hi, Derek. Am I on speaker phone?”  
  
“Yaah,” Erica drew the word out, long and silly, “Dahling, you are! Is he with you? can we say hi?”  
  
“No, he is inside. you can met him when you get here. We are at section three, and there is a carpark, so just follow the signs, I guess. Where are you?” The laugh that follows is short and soft and unmistakably Lydia’s.  
  
“About ten, fifteen minutes away from you, I think. We lost track of time at the mall.” Derek is growling softly as she says this.  
  
“Shut up. We will be there soon.”  
  
“Its alright. we don’t even have the luggage yet.”  
  
“Isaac,” Erica whined, “What is he like?” She managed to sound pleading and demanding all at the same time, and he could almost hear Derek rolling his eyes.  
  
“Don’t worry, Err. You’ll love him. Hey, everyone, how about earbuds in? I need to talk to fearless leader for a second, okay?” Everyone in the car grumbled at this, but Derek must have flashed his eyes, because they all shut up. The phone beeped to let him know he wasn’t on speaker anymore, and Derek whispered into the phone.  
  
 _“What, Isaac?”_  
  
 _“You aren’t going to believe this, but - “_


	12. Chapter 12

The baggage carousel was spinning, but still empty, when Isaac stepped back inside. Stiles was no longer propped up on Deaton, because the older man was gone. Ms. Victoria was rubbing his shoulders, and his skin glowed every time she pulled on a tight muscle.   
  
“Stiles! your skin!” Stiles shrugged and looked up at him, eyes also glowing softly golden.   
  
_“No big deal. Planies can’t see it. perception filter stuff.”_ Isaac nodded and smiled after reading the words, and they vanished.  
  
“Cool. Derek is on his way, they will be here in about ten minutes.” The green apple scent flared up, but not enough to mask the blood scent rolling off him in waves.  
  
  
“Dude, did you know your magic smells like blood?” Isaac stepped back, trying not to wrinkle his nose up, but it was fiercely  strong.  
  
Stiles smiled and Ms. Victoria laughed, then Stiles flipped up a different set of words so he could read them.  
  
 _“The tatts are made of blood and wolfsbane and Vanilla oil and some other stuff. Breathe deeper, young Padawan, and smell them in all their glory.”_ Isaac laughed at that and moved closer, before taking his hand and bringing the pale, thin fingers up to his face.  
  
The tattoos slowly rearranged on his hand, glowing and warm, to be long bars running down his fingers and spiraling around his hand. Isaac inhaled, slowly, trying to not get too wrapped up in the blood smell.   
  
“Yeah, sure, Vanilla, and some...brandy? lots of old blood though.” Stiles nodded again and words appeared in front of his face.   
  
_“Yeah, lots of old blood. My mothers.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a reference. Did you see it? cool. also, I established relationships. more than one but less than four. can you guess who? also also, more references coming up. that are big. and gawdy. and If you don't see them, I failed.


	13. Chapter 13

_“I didn’t know that he knew. About the blood.”_

_“Neither did I. He didn’t say anything when he first got them....”_

_“he never says anything.”_

_“oh ha ha ha, Victoria.”_

The silence held out for a beat too long before Victoria smiled brightly.

“Well, ah, would you look at that, here comes the luggage. My two blue ones, Stiles’ two red, and Deaton’s green one. Oh, and they all have runes on them, so you should be able to pick them out...Stiles, will you - “

Stiles nodded and grabbed Isaac’s chin with the hand still in front of his face, jerking him down sharply before the taller boy could react with more than a small yelp. He kissed him, hard, while Victoria laughed.

Isaac jerked back, indignant and spluttering.

"Whaaat-Why-Stiles!" He was red in the face, and his eyes had gone blue, but Stiles paid him no mind as he grinned hugely and patted the laughing victoria on the back. And then he saw - Victoria had traceries on her arms, not unlike Stiles' arms, but where they had been obscured before, he could see them glowing.

"What the hell, Stiles, What did you do?"

"Don't worry, Sweetheart, It will wear off soon enough. It's just so that you can see the Runes on the cases. You can see the magic, right?" Victoria was still smiling at him, In a soft, happy manner that didn't seem to sit on her face quite right.

"Yeah. Okay, I guess. Why the kiss though?"

"Easiest way to give you a touch of magic." The words shifted when he finished reading them, but didn't fade, instead turning into another line.

"also, really fun."

 


End file.
